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poetry

Talat Jehan, 13 august 2014

Father

Father..
Father a carer, shelter and a deep sea..
Who has all the hidden secrets and sorrows..
But never reveal those secrets just for the sake of his childrens..
He is like a strong wall, standing strong and tall..
Always ready to protect his childrens..
But when his children's are all around him, he is like a gentle breeze..
A breeze full of freshness and calmness.. Provide them with sense of security..
Father a name of fulfilling desires and wishes..
Father my Love and my real hero..

number of comments: 0 | rating: 2 | detail

Gert Strydom, 13 august 2014

From the blue sky falls a small dragonfly (Novelinee)

From the blue sky falls a small dragonfly
at our feet are a myriad of flowers
to which some busy bees passes us by,
in the distance high an oak towers
while the silence gives words to our love
that comes with an unknown secret power,
as if nothing, can ever it remove
while lingering is that passionate hour
slender like a special kind of flower.

number of comments: 0 | rating: 1 | detail

Gert Strydom, 13 august 2014

Going to church (septilla / Spanish septet)

In the portal people were gathering
while inside I heard some rejoicing sing,
the church was packed with some holy men
while tiny children smiled up at me,
mothers had a kind of sweet serenity,
I got looks from some unmarried women,
going to church was a very special thing.

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Satish Verma, 13 august 2014

THE FINALE

Sometimes horizon roams with moon
I pluck the stars
night drizzles from the dark clouds.

A shadow falls on the door
without struggle or rumor
I know he has come, my guest
the survivor of genocide.

He has come a long way
a message on his parched lips
he rubs hands.

Inferno he says. Holocaust he
murmurs. It is here again,
whole world is under siege.

He tells me, do something for the grass.
Ask your god to come back from domes.

Satish Verma

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Gert Strydom, 12 august 2014

Life is not what it seem

(in answer to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

There is nothing that can stop the sands of time
and although many lives may be sublime,
destiny and death leave marks on each day
while events occur without reason or rhyme.

If lives of great men are footprints in the sand
why is it then so very difficult to understand
that some leaders do lead men to disaster
although they do seem heroic and grand?

In our own kind of reality life is not what it seem,
as much like in a very strange kind of dream
things, circumstances and events are ever changing
and sometimes does not turnout as we do deem.

Even when we are achieving and pursuing,
events, words and acts may be our own undoing
while for justice we might forever wait,
without being able to do a single thing.

Yet in faith, if we do trust in God
even in havoc He is wherever we trod,
from the day of birth and celebration,
even beyond our funeral, the final sod.

[Reference: “A Psalm of Life” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.]

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Gert Strydom, 12 august 2014

Enchantment

Nothing could stop the enchantment
when I read the first signs of love in your eyes,
when there was something fragile and brittle in you,
when your hand laid soft and warm in mine
and I at that moment could say no words
when I found a sudden bond
and were caught by the image of blood and flesh.

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Satish Verma, 12 august 2014

INVENTION

Finally I found myself.
This book of life
had never been the same.

Who had invented God
from the pilfered version?
I say my prayers aggrieved.

Again solitude murmurs.
This twisted world
indulging in phallic worship.

The huge torch in your hand
lights the ugly feet
leaving footprints on dignity.

Blood bath of humming-birds
on the sand dunes of silence.
Children are frightened.

Hungrily I follow the scent.

Satish Verma

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Gert Strydom, 11 august 2014

It is two days more (Novelinee)

I watch the early morning blood-red rays,
its two more days before another kiss
while I am missing her in many ways
am yearning to see her, for pure bliss
to feel her soft curls like some times before
her golden soft hair now coloured dark,
each day I love and miss her even more;
on the depth of love I can just remark,
about its significance its joyful spark.

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Gert Strydom, 11 august 2014

The tar road lays open

(in answer to N.P. van Wyk Louw)

The tar road lays open under the burning sun
and the house is far over the hillocks
my feet are sore while the tar glows
with the sky stretching out blue to all sides.
As a young child there is meaning
in thing what other people might miss
and my hair at times do flutter in the wind
but about flowers I do have some knowledge.
In a short sleeve shirt and pants as a mere child
I am blinded by the bright hot light
as if Your summer hangs great over me
while I am trying to find my way home
and it’s as if I am already longing
for Your safety and nothing does frighten me.

[Reference: “Dit brand my voete” (It burns my feet) by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]

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Satish Verma, 11 august 2014

REVELATION

Your unclaimers
will miss the date
with a lunatic world,

what might
you need
for the final journey.

Don’t stop at midway
to watch the history
taking a turn.

A crispy sun
was waiting in meadows
to welcome bonhomie,

freedom of unlacing
the foes. The flesh sends
upright signals

for releasing the soul.
The incredible smell of bleed
will hang on the solid stings of space.

Satish Verma

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10 - 30 - 100

Latest items:

poetry

Father

From the blue sky falls a small dragonfly (Novelinee)

Going to church (septilla / Spanish septet)

THE FINALE

Life is not what it seem

Enchantment

INVENTION

It is two days more (Novelinee)

The tar road lays open

REVELATION

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